


countdown

by eunwol



Category: Underworld Capital Incident (Video Game)
Genre: (idk how japanese highschools work just roll with this), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Middle School, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9369026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eunwol/pseuds/eunwol
Summary: and it only took five years.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bottomyoongi69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomyoongi69/gifts).



> THIS WAS MADE AS A BIRTHDAY FIC FOR BIO!!!! ILU HYUNG!!!!!

**year one:**

Tagami’s family moves into the neighborhood on the third day of summer vacation. The boy next door-- Hirahara, a dangerously energetic child the same age-- is their first visitor, when his soccer ball rolls right next to Tagami’s napping spot under the shade of a maple. It gently goes against the grass and bumps up right next his side, and Tagami opens his eyes, staring in an unfocused way at blue sky filtering through the green leaves above him as he wakes up.

“Hello!” Hirahara says, his chipper voice causing Tagami’s gaze to snap towards him, and bends down to pick up his toy.

Tagami doesn’t respond give a response, just humming a vague sound of acknowledgment. It’s warm outside, the heat making his shirt stick to his back even after he sits up to lean against the trunk. None of it seems to deter Hirahara, whose face is still split into a silly grin, taking a seat besides him.

“I’m Hirahara!” he starts once more, his bright golden eyes shining so brightly that the other boy almost mistakes them for the light. Tagami picks up a fallen branch and draws shapes in the dirt, watching ants march in a line as they travel up the stem of a beautiful purple flower.

“Tagami,” he says back.

Later, once they’ve sat for a peaceful 10 minutes, Hirahara stands and takes Tagami’s hand, pulling him up as well. They traverse the wide plains of the backyard and dig for bugs in the rich soil, watching the clouds roll by with muddy hands. It’s weird, and tiring, but not in a bad way-- and it’s fun, really. Tagami thinks he wouldn’t mind spending his entire life like this. By the time the sun sets they stand under the same tree and promise to be best friends, the shadows of their linked pinkies extending across the ground.

 

* * *

 

**year two:**

Their desks are pushed up together by the windows near the back of the class, the red leaves scattering across the school grounds as they eat lunch. Hirahara is shouting again, waving his hands animatedly as he describes another adventure he had. Tagami nods. Tagami is stealing some food from his tray when the other boy isn’t looking. Not that it matters. They share everything, now, from popsicles to toys to secrets.

Hirahara says something again and his words come out fuzzy, untuned. Tagami’s listening, kind of, _not really_ . He’s focusing on Hirahara’s eyes instead, the same ones that drew him in a year ago. He fumbles with his chopsticks a bit as his best friend gives a smile that’s so _bright_ and so full of energy that he could probably power the city for a month. His breathing stutters a bit, and he frowns slightly, eyebrows furrowing in naive confusion.

Hirahara notices his startled expression, and stops for a second. He scoots his chair and and stretches his body until he’s practically across the span of their two desks.

“You okay?” he says, so, _so_ close.

He thinks that if he focuses enough, he could pick out the flecks of brown that accent the color of his irises. Hirahara is always a little too forward with physical contact, he thinks as their fingers nearly brush against each other as they stare eye to eye. He feels a bit hot.

“Yeah.” Tagami replies, his monotone voice the same as it usually is. It satisfies Hirahara, who returns to his wild story about how he cornered the stray cat that passed by the school during study hall and caught it, the poor thing hissing in his arms as he brought it to the teacher. This time Tagami tries to listen, picking at the last bits of his rice.

He had been asleep when the story had happened, vaguely remembering waking up to seeing Hirahara with his orange hair messy and claw marks down the side of his left arm as he released the white cat into the woods nearby. He remembers walking down to the infirmary with Hirahara, staring at the bandages that the lady taped over his wound and the candy she gave them both afterwards. When Hirahara had finished his early, biting into the lollipop and eating it all in a matter of minutes, Tagami had given him the rest of his own, feeling too tired to care whether or not he’d actually regret it.

They walk into class late but Hirahara draws a messy cat and a small _thank you_ underneath it in the margins of Tagami’s workbook when the teacher’s back is turned. The gesture is as sweet as the candy from before. He finds that he likes it.

 

* * *

 

**year three:**

The snow crunches under their feet as they trudge up the street on their way to school. The chilly air is sharp, winter finally starting to roll its way into their sleepy little village, and it feels like stinging winds against their cheeks. Tagami notices that Hirahara’s face is flushed from the cold, but then again, Tagami is starting to notice lots of things about Hirahara: the way his eyes light up when he’s excited; the sharp angles of his smile; the flex of his fingers; the tenseness of the body, high-strung and wild.

It’s weird. Really weird.

In a way, Tagami is thankful for the cold coming close— no doubt, it gives an excuse for why his face is so red. He's still trying to figure out what this is, this _interest_ flickering in between them like shoulders bumping together. Hirahara is always so close, clingy in a sense that's endearing, really, and in the end it only encourages these daring looks and touches from Tagami to continue.

The middle school feels more dull today too, each class and every hour passing by like oil. While they share classes, even Hirahara’s enthusiasm can't seem to make it any more bearable. The teacher keeps droning on.

When lunch finally comes, Tagami feels too tired to even finish his meal, not watching but knowing that Hirahara is stealing pieces of his pork when his eyes droop closed for a quick nap. The little amount of sleep does nothing when classes resume, so Tagami counts the seconds until the final bell.

When they walk home together, he thinks about the way Hirahara half runs up the icy hill, stopping every now and then to wait for Tagami, ever lazy as he always is, to catch up to his pace; the way he feels when he leans against him while he dozes off, comfortably against the flat of his shoulder.

It can only mean one thing.

_Love._

Yet, the realization isn't as startling as it should be: Hirahara restlessly kicks clumps of dead leaves and day old snow pressed together. Tagami wonder how long this will last— this emotion and this confusion. Hirahara is dynamic, a constant buzz of energy and loud voices. He’s a typhoon tearing across the land with howling winds, pushing and pulling everything in his path, and Tagami is there, like a tree trapped in the beauty of it all, just _waiting_ for something to happen.

 

* * *

 

**year four:**

They don't see each other much anymore.

As it turns out, everyone is busy. _Especially_ this year, where they're all fervently studying for their high school entrance exams. Both Tagami and Hirahara finds themselves forced to cram schools, mock tests one after another being thrown at them to complete. Their days are filled up trying to fulfill the promise of going to that same high school, and while Tagami is smart enough on his own after a bit, Hirahara isn't, losing focus as he daydreams, barely making it past the first question.

It’s not like Tagami is avoiding him on purpose. Rather, he’s been thinking about Hirahara for a while. Constantly, even. He makes the effort to head down to the large building once Hirahara’s done his extra classes yet all he can think about the foreign elation in his chest as he stands outside the front doors. All this, because of that stupid smile, the split grin of sheer happiness, his _eyes_ — he sounds too sappy as it is, but he does believe that he tastes like sugar, the flavor of his lips sweet like taffy against his own.

(but what he would give, to be the one who could hold his hand, feel the warmth curling between their palms, and his lips so nice against his own. he thinks of a lot about things like these, things too cutesy to be normal.)

Tagami doesn’t realize the true weight of nursing a quiet crush until he encounters the slow feeling of dread—he had grown fairly used to the longing and love he had come to know in his blood—settling in his stomach comes near the afternoon as he makes his way through the halls to leave for home. A girl whose name he doesn’t quite recall pulls him to the side that one stormy spring day, her cheeks dusted pink like the underside of the white peaches stacked against one another in the summer.

“I know it’s sudden, but I like you.”

Her eyes are watering a bit, as if she might cry, and she’s fidgeting in place as he looks for the right thing to say in his hesitation. She’s tiny and dainty, someone he barely recognizes from his homeroom. But Tagami isn’t worried about her, as cruel as that sounds. Numblessly, wordlessly, he gives a small rejection. The phrase _sorry, but I already like someone else_  quietly leaving his mouth in the now-empty school, shifting his eyes at the window as raindrops start to smatter against the glass.

Rather, his mind registers the sudden fear of someone else taking his friend away from him. A small girl, with bounces in her step and a carefree smile, leaning against Hirahara’s shoulder. To Tagami, an outsider in their paradisiacal relationship, they’d look perfect together. And god, he doesn’t want that. A selfish quiet part in his heart wants to take away Hirahara and his simple happiness and his easy, open love and have it all the time.

Tagami is laying under the covers of his bed sleeping off his despair when Hirahara texts him, asking why he didn’t see him on his way home. Tagami only texts back _went home early_ ; he had all but run back and flung the soaked uniform against the chair earlier, as if it could erase the image in his mind.

The wind howls, rattling branches against each of his house. Thunder echoes in the distance.

 

* * *

 

**year five:**

Lots of things happen in that summer.

Hirahara rushes into Tagami’s bedroom, holding the letter of acceptance with a beam. He’s so happy Tagami feels like he can see the metaphorical rays of sunshine coming from his friend, like has to squint when he looks at him. The letters clutched in their hands means _let's stay together_ , and even though it's only the early weeks of summer break deep down both of them are grateful for this. The school is nearby, nothing a walk or a quick train ride won't do. The entrance ceremony makes the building seem grander, ribbons and flowers hung over and around the walls and entrances as the principal gives his speech.

After a few weeks though, they fall into their pattern, with Hirahara being the one to talk Tagami awake as they slowly make their way down the streets. Nothing has changed. Not even the longing in his heart of the slow burn of anger when he thinks about love confessions.

Hirahara still runs through the halls despite the harsh insistence (and devoted persistence, much to both their amusement) of the hall monitor to refrain. He whines but he never complains, instead laughing about how much the hall monitor had yelled at the prefect when he told him to lighten up.

And Tagami still sleeps in class, although annoyingly enough the student body vice president, a boy with brown hair and bright blue eyes who has the mutual misfortune of sitting right next to him, prods him until he wakes up. When Tagami gives him an irritated and tired look, he motions to the teacher, who continuously talks none the wiser, writing something on the chalkboard.

(later, Tagami takes to the music room to play the guitar, but is instead surprised to see him there with another boy—is that the student body president?— who silently listens, quietly tapping the keys of the piano with a kind of confidence that can only be found in years of practice. he thinks that maybe he isn't so bad.)

The thing about high school is that Tagami and Hirahara get closer. It's not a bad thing but every second spent with Hirahara makes his heart ache just a little, silently wishing for more than the fond friendship they have. So one day, a day where the early summer clouds start turning weepy gray ones, signaling the soon start of autumn, Tagami blurts it out. It's the worst timing, with no planning or warning for either of them, under the abandoned roof waiting for the downpour to end.

“I, uh, like you,” he says, with probably less than the pathetic, meager amount of finesse that a stampede of elephants rampaging through Tokyo rush traffic has.

“I know!” Hirahara, and Tagami internally groans because he _loves this boy_ but for just this one time in his life could he not be so dense. “I like you too, Tagami!”

He drags out the last part of his name, something he started doing a few years ago, less like a whine and more like a beg. It's rather cute, really— but that's not the point here.

“No, Hirahara,” Tagami tries again, forcing his words out with a little more force than needed. Hirahara’s eyes snapping towards him with full attention now. “I _like_ you.”

“I _know,_ ” He repeats. The way his voice sounds now is softer than usual, but there’s an unnamed way he says it, his words filled to the brink with a big bang of emotions. “I said, I like you too, Tagami”

This is so embarrassing, Tagami thinks, because his face is flushed under the shadow of the roof and he hasn’t really looked at him after he said that, a kind of shame that’s not really shame making his face feel warm. Both of them are standing here in this awkward place, trapped in by the torrent around them, and it’s all because of this _stupid crush,_ quietly grown inside of him.

Maybe it was worth it, though; the five years of wanting something so unattainable. By the time the rain stops the afternoon sun hangs above them, dark murky clouds fading into the evening as stray dewdrops drip down from the green leaves. When they head home their hands are linked, Hirahara’s grip both firm and unrelenting. There's a feeling Tagami can't quite describe that settles and nests inside the niche of his chest, something that could never be replaced.

It's nice.

The storm as his friend. The storm in his heart. Even after all the wind and lightning the trees still stand tall. It's funny how things work out sometimes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**zero year:**

In the end, summer becomes their favorite season.

Summer is where they begin. Tagami, moving into the new home; the acceptance letters scattered across the sheets: the shy kiss under the covers. Now, with their first year of high school over, summer break starts again.

They're sharing a popsicle today, sitting in their shared backyard, trying to finish it off before the heat gets to it before them. Hirahara is talking animatedly about something—probably a story about that cow that lives on his relative's farm, who he's tormented since he was a kid—and Tagami is half listening, thinking about the piles of homework they need to do before school continues. The breeze feels good against them, the cooling sensation giving relief of the hot day.

It's only when Hirahara stops talking does the comfortable silence grow. He’s leaning against Tagami’s shoulder, and though their hands are sticky from their treat their hands are still brushed up against each other.  After being together for so long, Tagami finds it hard, now, to be near Hirahara without physical contact. He makes up for it in as many ways as he can, even buying candy to use as an excuse to feed him.

This boy is his and they love each other and _yes_ , he finds himself thinking sometimes, his mouth does taste like candy.

Now, under the great old maple, they sit. And they live. There's no need to rush things, not when they have the rest of the world waiting for them.

“I like you, you know.”

And it only took five years.


End file.
